


It comes once a year (luckily Paul does more often)

by baku_midnight



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Fanart, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:52:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: For CynthiaNicoLexo for A Very Desus Valentine's 2k18.





	It comes once a year (luckily Paul does more often)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cyn_xo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyn_xo/gifts).



Crawling back bedraggled and defeated from a stint on the fence crew would be humiliating enough, and so the fact that it was the Worst day of the year didn’t help Paul’s mood when he came into the trailer early in the evening. He wouldn’t’ve even known that it was Valentine’s Day if Carson, ever so helpfully, hadn’t mentioned it while he was patching up some sticky wounds on Paul’s arms. Paul just grunted some sort of affirmation and prayed to be cleaned up quickly.

 

Seeing Daryl in the room helped lighten his mood just a little bit.

 

Daryl was standing in the doorway, tapping off his boots in an uncharacteristically neat manner, shrugging out of his jacket. His arms bore wounds from fighting, rather than tangling with a batch of splintery wood like Paul, but Paul was pleased to see the way they matched.

 

“Hey, handsome,” Paul called, and waited for Daryl’s shy, sideways smile in response. When it came Paul hesitated barely a second longer before leaping into his arms.

 

Paul squeezed Daryl around the shoulders, grinning when he felt Daryl’s arms wrap around his waist and his feet come off of the ground. He chuckled and kissed Daryl’s ear, blushing at the little surprised sound he received in return.

 

“I missed you,” slipped out before Paul could catch himself, and he bit down on his lip. The holiday was making him sensitive and needy for attention, two things he hated being. His aversion to the thing had started long ago with some bad experiences that were now fuzzy, mostly misremembered details, but still left a sour taste in his mouth whenever the date came up. He shook his head as they broke their embrace, Daryl’s hand lingering on his back just a moment longer when they pulled apart.

 

Daryl wordlessly reached behind his back and into his pocket, pulling out a handful of something and handed it to Paul. It was a notebook with thick pages, the likes that would’ve cost a fortune pre-Apocalypse, bound in some matte plastic and clipped shut with bronze clasp. A fountain pen with a package of replacement cartridges rested on top, so beautiful in glass and silver it made Paul’s heart skip a beat.

 

It was an amazing gesture, but he and Daryl gave each other things they found all the time. Paul’s mind searched for meaning and then he blinked up at Daryl in surprise.

 

“You didn’t have to, just because it’s _that_ day,” Paul said, seeing the small, pleased smirk on Daryl’s face.

 

“What? Yer birthday?” Daryl asked, tilting his chin a little. Paul frowned.

 

“Valentine’s Day. I can hardly stand it, anyway,” Paul explained. A twinge of guilt pulled at his stomach and his eyes darted to the floor. It was a stupid phobia if ever there was one, but somehow a day dedicated to commitment and romance was difficult for a guy who spent the first 17 years of his life being shuffled to different foster homes, and being harassed for his sexuality for the next few.

 

“So that’s why you’re actin’ all like someone pissed in your cornflakes,” Daryl huffed, stepping around Paul to put his stuff away on the table.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Paul rolled his eyes, “so you didn’t even know it’s Valentine’s Day today?”

 

“I look like someone who’d care about that?” Daryl asked, kicking off his boots. He peeled off his socks and stuffed them inside as well, putting his bare feet on the linoleum.

 

“Then, why the present?” Paul asked. Daryl just shrugged, his smirk unreadable. He rinsed his hands in the basin on the counter.

 

So either his boyfriend was being coy or he was just a genuinely nice and loving person, the latter of which being for some reason so hard for Paul, jaded as he was, to believe. In the moment, Paul felt bad that he couldn’t just accept gifts or compliments with grace and gratitude like a normal, goddamn well-adjusted person. But Daryl didn’t seem disappointed; in fact, his grin only widened the way it sometimes did when he was thinking about dragging Paul somewhere secret and kissing him to within an inch of his life.

 

“Well, it’s just another day to _mm_ —” Paul waved his hand, but was cut off by Daryl sweeping an arm around his waist and dipping him—straight-up _dipping_ him like in some sort of flamenco dance—and kissing him. The kiss fell a little off centre, but quickly righted itself, and when Paul was done being confused-surprised, he practically melted into the embrace. Daryl sunk his teeth into Paul’s bottom lip, and Paul let out a little noise of surprise that remained buried in his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. The nerves in his fingertips were already on fire when Paul reached out to touch Daryl’s messy hair and found his burning ears and cheeks instead.

 

When he regained his verticality, Paul saw that Daryl’s eyes were wide, a little stunned by his own actions for a moment.

 

“What else are you hiding today?” Paul asked, and Daryl shrugged again, this time with an obvious glint in his eyes.

 

Paul grabbed him by the waist and yanked Daryl towards him so their hips joined, belts gnashing into skin and making them both hiss. Securing Daryl boldly with one hand on his rear, Paul started to search his back pocket with the other, slipping gloved fingers into the slit in the denim, contorting his hand this way and that.

 

Paul mumbled to himself as he searched. His eyes glinted with triumph as he finally pulled out what he was seeking: a thin metallic packet attached to several more, making a tiny, silver accordion that unfolded down his arm.

 

“Ambitious,” said Paul, reaching to unhook and shed his gloves, but stopped by Daryl’s hands on his waist scooping him right up onto the counter. He gasped and went to stabilize himself, hands landing on Daryl’s broad shoulders and anchoring carefully while Daryl started to push up his vest.

 

Something about the little bits of foil and everything they implied made Paul lose sense for a moment, pawing at the larger man and trying to peel layers off of him with little success. Together they worked Daryl’s belt off, letting it fall flaccid to the floor, huffing and puffing with just the effort of gaining access to bare skin. Daryl was blushing and stumbling already; Paul could just imagine what he would look like all riled up, shirt ten feet across the room and hair messy and tossed this way and that with activity…he felt a jolt of anticipation rocket through him so powerful, he needed a moment to collect himself.

 

Daryl grunted in affirmation, his knees shaking a little. Somehow, he had insinuated himself between Paul’s legs, which were wrapped tightly around his thighs where he sat half-reclined on the counter, his back against the cupboards. The position itself made his vision go blurry, his fingers trembling as he reached and wrapped his arms around Paul’s back to secure him, to keep him from falling.

 

“Just to warn you, I’m really gross right now—mouldy wood is not fun to work with,” Paul explained, joining their foreheads together, planting a kiss on the corner of Daryl’s mouth, right over his beauty mark. His long fingers trailed across Daryl’s cheeks and down his neck, dipping into the open collar of his shirt and between his collarbones, alighting nerves like striking matches all over his skin.

 

“Don’t care,” Daryl muttered, reaching forward and scooping Paul up with one arm under his knees and the other around his back, until he was holding him bridal-style across his arms. The man let out a huff of laughter as Daryl shifted his weight, bouncing him up higher on his torso to better balance him in his arms, and Paul wrapped his hands around Daryl’s neck to hold on. He couldn’t help the excited, airy little laugh that came out of him as Daryl kicked his boots across the linoleum and carried him across the kitchen, leaving their clothes where they fell and striding into the adjacent room.

 

The kicked-open door revealed a bed on which Daryl promptly threw Paul, where he bounded on the mattress, the comforter giving a _puff_ of effort.

 

Daryl dragged the quilt onto the floor, leaving only the bedclothes and settling down between Paul’s legs, which came to wrap around his waist and secure him, tight enough to crush. He reached and yanked the zipper of Paul’s vest down in one rough movement, the metal teeth whistling as he peeled open the sides, leaving Paul’s chest bare, a whole line of naked skin revealed.

 

He leaned forward and planted his mouth against Paul’s clavicle and began to suck, pulling hard enough to bring bruises to the surface, moving on when he seemed satisfied to another patch of skin just at the base of his throat, sucking another wet kiss there. Paul let out a soft moan and stroked Daryl’s scalp with one hand, the other propping himself up on his elbow, lifting his chin to the ceiling and closing his eyes.

 

Impulsively, he bunched a handful of Daryl’s hair and pulled, just enough to bring Daryl off of him, his mouth dripping mid-lick.

 

“Sorry,” Paul blushed. Maybe a little bit of residual anger at the holiday still remained, or maybe sinking his fingers into those messy locks was too hard to resist.

 

“S’alright,” Daryl smirked, and returned his attention the bare chest before him. Paul was shaking with anticipation and desire, the feeling crawling across him in waves, pulsating inside until he couldn’t help it any longer and placed a hand in the middle of Daryl’s chest and pushed him up.

 

Paul climbed on top, shedding his outer layers and gripping Daryl’s hair to tilt his head back. Pressing down into his lap, Paul leaned in for a deep kiss, nipping Daryl’s lip as he retreated, enough to draw a dribble of blood.

 

Daryl pulled away, a little surprised frown on his face, and Paul thought he might’ve overstepped. “Sorry again?”

 

“Naw,” Daryl answered, “s’good. _Real_ good.”

 

...

 

 

Sated and panting softly, vision slowly returning to focus like an off-tilt camera, Paul groaned and rolled over to his side to find Daryl still half-hard. He squeezed his thick length gently, giving a few short pulls that made Daryl moan low in his throat.

 

“Thanks for the book, by the way,” Paul said, suddenly remembering. He was so caught up he hardly remembered the lovely gesture. “I didn’t get you anything…”

 

“You can gimme something right now,” Daryl said, and leaned over to Paul’s ear, whispering his request. It made Paul blush but he was excited once again, happy to turn Valentine’s Day into celebration rather than a bad recollection and paint his memory with the sights and sounds of the man he loved.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, dear! I feel I might've skimped out on the smut on you, and I feel bad about that! If it's alright with you, I might have to add more...


End file.
